


i'll be singing you in all of my songs

by hazyhowell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Phan - Freeform, dan talks.. a lot, honestly i don't even know what genre this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazyhowell/pseuds/hazyhowell
Summary: dan recounts the events of when phil had gotten into a car crash.





	i'll be singing you in all of my songs

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like an hour so bear with me please.

“I first told you I loved you six years ago; I had realised I loved you twenty minutes into our first skype call. Even when we had no idea what we were, I knew I loved you.

“I didn’t exactly know in what way, I just knew I didn’t want to spend my life without you in it. I knew your face made me happy, no matter if I felt like complete shit. I knew I would lose myself in your bright, beautiful eyes. I knew I missed your laugh when I told a joke and you weren’t there, and to remember to tell you about it later. I knew whenever I thought of my future you were in it. 

“I knew I didn’t expect this.

“It’s been ten months, but it’s still fresh. I’m not surprised it is, it’s not like I had time to prepare for it.

“I still remember getting the phone call, too. I was making dinner - I wanted it to be almost done by the time you came home - when my phone rang. I expected it to be you telling me you were stuck in traffic, or that you wandered into a store and were just now calling a taxi. It wasn’t you, though. It was a local hospital. My first thought was that Louise had gone into labour and they all forgot their phones so they had to use the hospital’s. Never once did I think they called because of you.

“The nice lady on the other end asked if this was Daniel Howell, and I told her yes. I was growing confused and wary at that point. I didn’t recognise the voice, and she didn’t sound like she was going to tell me anything good. I remember her telling me that this was about Phil Lester, and since I was your emergency contact they called as soon as they identified you. I felt like my breath got stuck in my throat. There was this long pause before a heavy sigh, before her telling me that you had been in a car crash and you were in critical condition.

“I nearly dropped the phone. I didn’t say anything except ‘thank you’ after she gave me the address of the hospital. I grabbed my keys and wallet, simultaneously dialing the phone to ring a taxi. I ran downstairs only in my socks, trying to stumble or trip. I put my shoes on in the dark outside while waiting for the taxi. It pulled up and we sped to hospital. 

“When we arrived I nearly jumped out of the car before it fully stopped. I ran to the front desk to ask where you were. They told me I had to wait, that you were in surgery. I almost asked if I could if I could go into the operation room. I decided against it, though. 

“I took my seat in the waiting room. I figured I should call your parents and Martyn and Cornelia. I dreaded that. They all took the news surprisingly well, considering the circumstances. I was pretty calm, externally, that is. Inside I was a fucking mess. 

“I was trying to prepare myself for seeing you hooked up to all those wires and tubes. I was trying to figure out what kind of injuries you might have and how to help you recover. I was wondering how long you would have to be stuck in that place. I was hoping it wasn’t long, because I knew how much you hated hospitals. 

“You not making it never occurred to me in that flurry of thoughts and ‘what if’s. There was no future without you in it. I couldn’t imagine you  _ not _ making it. You made it through everything, so why wouldn’t this be the same? You were strong, and stubborn enough to fight through it. I believed in you. 

“After a few hours of me pacing the length of the waiting room like an idiot, a nurse came in and told me I could see you. I felt like jumping and collapsing at the same time. I couldn’t wait to finally see that you were okay, but I knew I would hate to see you in such a helpless position. I wanted to run, to rush to make it so you knew I was there for you, but I wanted to stop in my tracks, because the slower I moved, the longer I could pretend this wasn’t happening. Once I saw you I knew the reality and weight of it all would sink in.

“We made it to your room. There you were, lying on that stupid white bed, monitors and machines surrounding you. I walked over to you, tentatively placing a hand on your arm. I wanted to know this was real, that you were real and this wasn't some fucking nightmare.

“A doctor was in the room. He told me that your state was critical and that you only had a 20% chance of a full recovery. I listened to him, mostly. I was mainly focusing on you, on the gentle but steady rise and fall of your chest, on your hand to see if it tensed, on you feet to see if your toes wiggled. I never took my eyes off of you. 

“I wasn’t worried about the chances of survival and recovery; I was so sure you were going to make it. Maybe not a complete recovery, but that didn’t matter. I’d build a fucking ramp over the stairs in the apartment if I had to. I was just so sure you’d live. 

“The doctor left after patting my shoulder. I gave him a grim smile, even though I was still looking at you.

“I pulled a chair up to the bed. I sat there for God knows how long. I sat there with you, waiting for you to wake up. 

“But you didn’t wake up, so the nurses made me go home. They told me I could come back in the morning. I went back reluctantly. I didn’t sleep that night, you know. I figured you were getting enough sleep for the both of us.

“I don’t even remember what I did. It felt wrong to do anything to lighten the mood, anything that would make me laugh or smile. I think I mainly sat and stared at my phone, just waiting for it to ring or for that first seven to turn into an eight, whichever came first. 

“Eight o’clock came first. I changed out of the previous day’s clothes, grabbed my needed things, and headed for the hospital. 

“I was slightly less hurried because I knew they wouldn’t let me in to see you until closer to nine, I was just more anxious. I was excited and nervous to see you.

“I made it to the hospital and they led me to your room. As soon as I walked in I knew something was different. The doctor told me the news and I started to cry. Then-”

“Wait,” Phil says, his voice reverberating off my chest. “This is my favorite part. Can I say it?”

I nod my head, smiling at him like some idiot; it's my favorite part, too, and he loves telling it.

His face glows. “I waived you over to me. I grabbed your hand and told you it was all right. I told you it was worth it because if had taken an earlier taxi I wouldn’t have been able to meet those dogs.”

We both laugh. We’re able to now, it’s no longer that scary. Phil’s close to a full recovery - he’s almost able to walk by himself again.

I run my hands through his hair, his arms wrap themselves tighter around my waist.

“You know the biggest thing that sticks out to me every time you tell me that story?”

“What?” I ask.

“I got into a life-threatening car crash, and that was the one time you didn’t think about death,” he responds.

I laugh, angling into him as I do so. “You’re right.”

Phil yawns, burying his head into my chest. “It’s late, we should sleep.”

“Yeah, we should.” I kiss him on top of his head. “Good night,” I say quietly.

“Good night,” he responds, already half asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> phil was originally supposed to die. i originally just wanted this to be just dan recounting the events, and that he still talks to phil every night because he misses him. does that make sense? i might write that at some point. this was the only actual plot I was able to get out this week and stick to, though, and i wanted to get something up.


End file.
